


Bleeding Love

by SansyFresh



Series: Angst and Stuff [7]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Allusions to abuse, Angst, Bruises, Did I Mention Angst?, Drama, Dreamare - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, In a sense, M/M, Mentioned Abuse, Mentioned Possible Sexual Abuse, Unhealthy Relationships, blood mention, please read the tags, sometimes all you have is each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:28:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22763233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SansyFresh/pseuds/SansyFresh
Summary: Dream isn't going to turn them in.Nightmare wouldn't have blamed him if he did.
Relationships: Sans/Sans (Undertale)
Series: Angst and Stuff [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1263086
Comments: 4
Kudos: 77





	Bleeding Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yastaghr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yastaghr/gifts).



> wooo another fic for yastaghr!! i hope this one satisfies ^^
> 
> please read the tags for triggering material mentions!!
> 
> enjoy ;)

There were times Dream had to remind himself that, yes, this was the idiot he was in love with. Nightmare would make some sort of Grand Decision, and Dream would be the one to clean up after and try to keep Ink from making his own decision to finally wipe his brother out. 

Ink was a god among the regular Sanses and Papyruses. He could do it if he so pleased, not that it would be easy to kill the God of Negativity, but Ink could damn well hurt him. So Dream cleaned up, promised he’d be on the trail of the little gang his brother had put together, and he’d capture them and put them in a time out. 

Time out meaning nothing, really, just a phrase he’d started using when everyone asked him what the exact plan was when Nightmare and his gang were caught. “Time out.” What a joke.

He didn’t really think they believed him. Not anymore, at least. But still, they respected him enough to not go behind his back to try and kill his brother,  _ his mate _ , so he kept up the charade of trying to find them.

He knew where Nightmare was. He knew where he went, where he stayed, where he ate and where he slept. It wasn’t hard to know, seeing as how Nightmare told him all these things on a regular basis. 

At least, when they were talking on a regular basis. On days like these, when tensions were high and Dream was reminded of darker times, he knew a lot less than he’d like. 

Nightmare told him where they moved, when they moved, when one of his gang was hurt and they needed some cover, and when they needed supplies, much like today. They were going to be out and about doing whatever it was Nightmare had them doing that day, and Dream would have the opportunity to bring food, clothes, and various knicknacks he’d found for the little group. 

He enjoyed being the one to help them all, seeing as how his brother and the group couldn’t exactly go places looking for supplies without causing a scene. But, sometimes he wondered if it was all worth it. Caring for his brother, he’d do with a smile. Caring for the company he kept was a little harder when he was left to wonder...

Did Nightmare even love him, that was the real question. It wasn’t that he couldn’t feel positive emotions, being the God of Negativity, but he could damn well say shit that left a mark and Dream shuddered remembering the last fight they’d had. 

Dream had said something out of turn about Nightmare’s little gang, wondering if they didn’t have family to return to, if they weren’t a, ha,  _ negative  _ influence on his brother. Nightmare had snapped, told him that his “little gang” was all he needed and if Dream didn’t like it, he could damn well fuck off.

That had… well, it’d hurt a lot. Nightmare always claimed that Dream was his morning star, his reason for living, the one thing that kept him from falling into the abyss. Maybe Nightmare didn’t need him anymore, maybe he was just keeping him from his full potential. Even if that potential was pure evil. 

Dream sighed, heaving the bags of groceries up and over his shoulder as he made his way through the empty universe. Dust had no doubt been here, since Error would have torn the very code of the universe apart. The streets were silent, the trees creaking in the quiet, and Dream found himself walking just a bit faster to get to the Snowdin Home Nightmare had grudgingly asked him to bring supplies to. 

It looked just the same as all the other skeleton brother’s homes; Sans had taken him once, to see it, when he’d asked. It made him remember the little village he and Nightmare had lived by, the villagers and their fake smiles and too bright teeth. He’d been fooled for too long, long enough that his poor brother had paid the price. Over. And over. And over.

Those villagers were a thing of the past, dust in the hills as they say, and Dream resolutely put the thought out of his mind as he opened the creaky door and stepped inside. 

It was quite dusty, the old green couch a staple in most universes, the imprint of a few bony butts already left from their usage. Dream snorted at the sight of a poorly hidden bong, shaking his head as he went to the kitchen.

The bags all fit like a puzzle onto the counter, Dream unbagging everything before he went about putting things away; the fruits and dairy to the fridge, the chisps and fruit snacks to the cabinet, and everything else to the closet. None of the boys ate meat, not that Dream could blame a single one of them.

After everything, he wasn’t able to stomach it either.

He only heard the barest whisper of movement, the smallest amount of sound and he was backed against the wall, a bone knife against his throat. He stared down, surprised, at Dust, who was glaring up at him with rage in his crazed eyes. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Dust ground out, Dream helplessly shrugging before gesturing to the fridge. 

“Paps, check it out.” he said, and Dream could only watch as the spectral form of a brother he’d never had opened the fridge, squealing happily at what he saw. 

“Fooooood brother! Reeaaaal foooood!” Papyrus exclaimed, pulling out and munching on what had become a ghost sandwich. Dream wondered about the logistics of that, seeing as how on a certain plane of existence, Papyrus technically didn’t exist, but he didn’t have a whole lot of time to consider it, seeing as how the knife against his throat pushed forward until it was digging in enough to let a little trickle of marrow leak out.

“I’ll ask you one more time. Why are you here?” Dust demanded, and Dream. Dream had had enough.

With a snap of his fingers Dust was up and in the air, held aloft by golden tentacles. “I do not have to explain myself to you.” He said, simple and easy, and with that he walked away, letting Dust drop the few feet back to the floor without an ounce of intent. 

The AntiVoid was silent as he traveled through it, coming soon enough upon the Doodle Sphere. Ink stood there, among the pictures and pictures and millions of thoughts of AUs, just staring hard at an empty canvas. 

Dream waited for acknowledgment before he stepped forward, arm crossed over his chest in a mock bow before he said, “Any news today?”

Ink didn’t even spare him a glance as he moved closer to the canvas, studying it so intently Dream thought it might catch on fire. 

“I heard that Dust was seen among the outer sectors.” was all he said, and Dream fought back an instinctive flinch. 

“You don’t say. I’ll get on it immediately, they’ll be caught within a week.” Or, at least, within a week he’d have had enough time to figure out another excuse as to why he hadn’t caught them. Something like magic failure, running into Error, running into Fresh and losing control over his own body for a few days. Those kinds of things.

Not that being controlled by Fresh was a particularly easy excuse to pull off, but he could dream.

Ink rolled his eyes, taking out the tiniest brush in his arsenal and pointing it at Dream, still without looking at him. “You won’t be doing anything. I’ve sent Red and Blue to take care of it.”

Dream opened his mouth, shut it, then swallowed. “Is there any reason why?”

Taking the tiny paintbrush, Ink began to slowly, gently trace out the picture he must have been seeing in his mind. “I’m saying you lack conviction. If you really wanted to find them, you would have by now.” Now he glanced up, looking Dream in the eyes. “Just remember what side you’re on.” And with that, he was back to painting, dead to the world. 

Dream took the out that it was and left, heading back to that hill, the tallest tree and the sunlight that dappled behind the broken ruins of what was once a great village. He still remembered the day it burned, the way the smoke rose in the air and bloomed like some hideous gray flower. 

He didn’t have to wait long, Nightmare settling in beside him at the foot of the tree. They didn’t say anything, not for a long time. Just as Dream could read Nightmares emotions, thoughts and feelings, Nightmare could read Dream’s. He knew what the problem was, why he had to come here.

It wasn’t to reminisce about old times, that was for certain.

“Are you going to turn us in?” Nightmare finally asked, and Dream found he couldn’t answer. He didn’t want to bring them all to face Ink and Blue and the rest of them, no matter what crimes had been committed, but honest to the stars, Blue was his friend. Sans was more than a friend. 

But. Nightmare was his brother.

“I don’t know.”

Nightmare nodded, seemingly already expecting that answer. “You know I could kill them all. If I wanted to.”

Dream shook his head. “They’d find a way to stop you. They’d pull some kind of trump card out of their ass and you’d be dead where you stood. Good always wins over evil.”

“Am I evil though?” Nightmare asked, almost introspectively, and Dream found himself with tears rolling down his cheeks. 

“I wasn’t the one, so long ago. You know as well as I do that I would have done nothing to save myself.”

Dream nodded, sockets cringing shut at the sounds of old screams that still haunted his nightmares. “N-no, you’re right. It had to be done. You would have never… and I’d still be…”

_ Fooled _ , he didn’t say.  _ A stupid naive child _ , he didn’t say either. The words hung between them, filling the air with rage and hatred and all the things Dream didn’t admit to feeling. To being able to feel.

Nightmare settled his hand over Dream’s, the contrast between frigid and scalding near horrid but Dream held on tightly. 

“I forgive you, y’know. Did a long time ago. You didn’t know.” 

Dream shook his head. “I should have figured it out. It should have been obvious.” 

Nightmare shrugged. “Whatever. Point is, I don’t hate you for it. Are you turning us in?”

Dream opened his eyes, staring out into the night sky. Was he turning them in? It’d save him a lot of trouble, a lot of heartache when the “good guys” all realized he’d been betraying them the whole time.

It’d stop this whole relationship between him and his brother. It was probably toxic, probably not good for either of them, but here they were, holding hands. Stars, Dream was getting too old for this. His inception was eons ago, his age creeping up on him. Good stars if he didn’t feel it, some days. 

“No.” he finally answered, and Nightmare nodded. Standing, Nightmare knelt down next to him, taking his chin in his hands. 

“Listen to me for a sec?” He asked, and Dream stared him in the eyes. Nightmare stared back, leaning forward to leave a chaste kiss on Dream’s teeth. “I don’t blame you…” he whispered, before snapping his fingers and disappearing into a shortcut. 

Dream stared at the spot where he’d been, for a long time. It was the same spot he’d finally seen a bruise and asked his brother, “Who hurt you.”

It hadn’t been a request. At the time it’d been a gentle demand, as gentle as he could get with his brother crying into his arms, sobbing with the force of all his emotions coming out at once. It’d been… difficult to get the whole thing out of him, but Dream was nothing but patient. 

Call him a crazy fool in love, call him a murderer, call him a zealot. But don’t call him a bad brother. 


End file.
